


Haven in a Heartless World

by Tabithian



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Kingdom Hearts, Marvel, Red Hood and the Outlaws, Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-06 03:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 12,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assorted ficlets and drabbles, mostly DCU oriented.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Late Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-39167.html) on Texts From Last Night.

Tim's sleeping, drained from from long hours at his work and the tail-end of a nasty cold, which is really the only thing that saves Dick from injury. Or, well, Tim mentally corrects as he fumbles the bedside lamp on and gets a better look at Dick, further injury. 

"Dick." Tim grimaces at the sound of his own voice. Squints at Dick who is standing in the middle of the room looking like a deer caught in headlights. He's fresh from an after-patrol shower, hair still wet and hanging in his eyes, and shirtless, which. If it was anyone else, Tim would wonder, but it's Dick and for some reason these things just happen with him. But. Dick's bleeding. Nothing too serious, just a small cut on his face, right next to a new bruise, and. 

Tim sighs, throws the covers off and pads towards Dick. Pushes him toward the bed and points, communicates, _sit down, or else_ , with his eyebrows. Scowls when Dick snorts, the first real sign of anything out of him aside from exhaustion he's shown, and ruffles Tim's hair because he can.

" _Dick_."

Dick gives him a wide smile as he settles himself on the bed. "Sure, Tim." Obnoxiously sweet, perky. Designed to annoy. 

"Whatever you say."

Another sigh before he goes to the bathroom for the first aid kit he keeps there. When he comes back into the bedroom Dick's listing to one side, eyes closed. Even in the dim lighting Tim can make out the bags under his eyes, the sharpness to his cheekbones. 

"You know," Tim says, walking over. Dick opens his eyes, watches Tim as he sits next to him and sorts through the first aid kit. "I want a calm night." Tim tilts Dick's face towards the light, carefully cleans the cut. "Not one where I wake up to you topless and bloody."

Dick smiles, small, soft, as Tim works. "What, and miss out on all of _this_?" Dick gestures to himself at that, because he's Dick, that's just how he is, and just.

"Shut up." Tim smiles though - it's hard not to because _Dick_. That really shouldn't explain so much, and yet it does. "You're terrible."

Dick _hmms_ in agreement, far too pleased with himself.

"Ugh, knock it off," Tim mutters, still gentle as he applies a butterfly band aid over the cut. "Idiot." Glares at Dick who's watching him. Amused, fond. "Dick?" Tim supposes it's a sort of progress that Dick waits until Tim closes the lid on the first aid kit before he moves, tugs Tim down on the bed with him, wrapping his arms around Tim like an octopus to keep him from pulling away. "Dick!"

"Tim," Dick says. "Shh. Sleep." Dick flails ineffectually for the blankets, tangled around their legs.

"Oh, for - " Tim sighs, pushing Dick away long enough to untangle them. "You're insufferable." 

"Mm, yeah." Dick still has that inordinately pleased look on his face. "I aim to please."

Tim rolls his eyes, jerks the blankets free of Dick's feet and pulls the blankets over them, lets Dick arrange him to his satisfaction like a stuffed animal. "Idiot," he says again, quiet, as Dick's breathing evens out, Dick himself warm and solid and there. Feels his eyes grow heavy, sleep beckoning, Dick's arm over his waist, _safesafesafe_.


	2. The Bird a Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kon looks at Tim, sleeping, dead to the world. Thinks about it, then glances at Bart, anxious. Worried. "Dude," he says. "He's just sleeping."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day, I will post something that isn't [inspired by](http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-39229.html) Texts From Last Night, but today is not that day. /o\

Kon looks at Tim, sleeping, dead to the world. Thinks about it, then glances at Bart, anxious. Worried. "Dude," he says. "He's just sleeping." 

_Long days and longer nights catching up to him_ , Nightwing had said, along with something about sedatives and, _this being good for Tim even if he won't see it that way_ , and, _you probably won't want to be around when he wakes up_ , before he'd let himself out.

Bart huffs, one cheek puffed out with food, bakery bag forgotten. "I know that!" Winces when Tim shifts in his sleep. "It's just." Bart shrugs, looks back at Tim. "It's Tim."

Kon sighs because yes, it's Tim. Stupid, stupid Tim who does this to himself - to them - all the damn time and doesn't even realize. Sighs, and digs out the Sharpie he'd brought because if Tim's going to do this to them, he needs to learn there are consequences to his actions. Or something like that anyway.

"Really?" Bart asks, like he thinks Kon's an idiot, which, not exactly undeserved, because Tim is going to kill him for this, but _hey_.

"Shh. Master at work.” Kon smirks as he draws a little curve here, a little swoop there. He takes a moment to appreciate his masterpiece once he's done. Perfect. Beautiful.

Leaning in to see better, Bart makes a thoughtful noise. "He looks like Dick Dastardly. Only, you know." Bart gestures at Tim. "Without the hat and goggles and pretty much everything else."

"Let's be honest here," Kon says, because really, picturing Tim in those clothes is _hilarious_ , "it's definitely the mustache that makes him awesome." So very true. The guy has a sweet mustache. And now, so does Tim.

"He's going to kill you, you know." 

Well, yes, but totally worth it. He says as much, and grins when Bart laughs. Tim's breathing changes as as he rolls over, not quite awake but getting there and. "Remember what Nightwing told us?" 

Bart frowns at him for a second before it registers, eyes widening. "Not good things, right?"

Definitely not good things. "Right."

Bart hesitates, watching Tim. 

"Come on." Kon picks up the bakery bag and holds it up to Bart. "You get to be the grown up." This time, anyway, as he was only an accessory to the crime. And because he knows Bart's still worried - they all worry about Tim - he shakes the bag. "Leave a ciabatta by his face." To show you care, Kon doesn't say, and also, maybe, because he's kind of an ass and Tim will yell about crumbs in his bed for forever and that will also be hilarious.

Bart grins because sometimes it really is that easy, and plucks the bag out of Kon's hand and carefully places a ciabatta on the pillow next to Tim's head. "He's going to kill both of us," Bart says, but he actually sounds happy about it.

"Oh, without a doubt." Kon slings an arm around Bart's shoulders and leads him toward the door, listening to Tim's breathing and Bart's quiet laughter. This, right now, is. Not good, exactly, but. Headed towards better, once he and Bart get a chance to talk to Tim about his habits when he wakes. Not good, but getting there, and that's what matters.


	3. Missives

It's a sign of Dick's _everything_ when Tim receives a message from him. When Dick is on the other end of the couch supposedly watching a movie while Tim types up a report for Bruce. Tim looks at Dick, but Dick is watching the movie with intent, and.

Tim sighs, opens the message and. "What."

Dick's mouth twitches but he doesn't say anything, and. And this is how things go, sometimes, because this is Dick. Tim opens the message to see what looks like [a child's rendition of Nightwing](http://tinypic.com/r/28ngh2/6), but Tim suspects is actually Dick's handiwork. In the event Tim can't figure out who the crudely drawn picture is meant to be, "Nightwing" is written - scrawled, really, - above it, an arrow pointing to the drawing. "Seriously, Dick." Tim has no idea what he's supposed to do with this. Doesn't know what to do with Dick and his horrible drawing. Dick, of course, doesn't give Tim anything to work with, completely engrossed in Sandra Bullock's train-wreck of a romance while Bill Pullman is deeply suspicious and inexplicably charming. After several minutes pass without incident, Tim goes back to tying his report. Cautiously, wary of whatever Dick's up to because he knows Dick and this drawing, however terrible, is just the beginning.

Ten minutes later Tim is proven right when his phone lets him know there's another message, and oh, look, it's another of Dick's awful drawings. Tim stares at it, the beginnings of dread taking root. There are [several badly drawn hearts](http://tinypic.com/r/2mr7dqc/6), and just like last time, helpfully labeled for what, Tim's not sure. "Did you want something?" Tim stares at Dick, who is _still_ watching the movie as though it holds vital information Dick needs. " _Dick_."

Dick glances at him, an look of confusion on his face that's almost convincing. Almost, because Tim knows Dick. More importantly, he know when Dick's planning something. "What?"

Tim's eyes narrow, but, again, Dick gives him nothing to work with. "Nothing. Never mind." Dick smiles and goes back to watching the movie as though he isn't making Tim crazy. Tim turns back to his laptop, but keeps an eye on Dick, who does nothing suspect for the next ten minutes. Tim keeps watching, though, and after thirty more minutes go by without further action on Dick's part, Tim - foolishly, as it turns out - focuses back on his report. The moment he does, of course, is when Dick strikes, Tim's message alert strangely loud over the movie.

"Dick!"

Dick gives him a wounded look. "Geez, Tim, I'm trying to watch the movie." Like butter wouldn't melt.

Tim glares, Dick pouts, and Tim is. Tim is never going to win, not when Dick's like this. Gives in and checks his phone and. [Oh, God, it's _him_](http://tinypic.com/r/25018o0/6). Horribly, terribly drawn, with the intitials "RR" above the worst drawing in the world and an arrow pointing to it and, _he does not look like that, God, Dick_. Tim looks up, eyes narrowed and prepared to do battle, but Dick's _right there_ , smiling, so, so big, so happy. 

"Hey, Timmy," he says, and closes the distance to press his lips against Tim's. Tim makes an inarticulate sound of rage - exasperation - in his throat, feels Dick's laughter, but then Dick's moving closer, and this is maybe not the worst thing in the world, and yet. "You're a terrible artist," he says, because what else can he say? 

Dick laughs, breath warm on Tim's face as he pulls back to place a soft kiss on Tim's cheek, "Noted," he says, and moves in for another kiss. Tim fails to stop him.


	4. Field Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason sits up at that, eyes narrowing. "We should probably have a protocol for that." More Battish than usual for Jason, but. Well. Dick and Damian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired from [this post](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-39464.html) on Texts From Last Night.

When Tim's phone [chirps at him](http://www.birdjam.com/birdsong.php?id=1) (haha, Dick, haha) he doesn't quite know what to make of the message he finds.

_To be so small, the mini-horses are exceptionally aggressive._

Tim has. A very not good feeling about it, because _Damian_. And it's like the universe lives to mess with him because moments later he receives another text from Damian. 

_And fast. Very, very fast._

That just doesn't sound good at all. "I. Jason?" 

Jason looks up from what he's doing (something with explosives) and raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Tim holds his phone up. "Damian's class had a field trip today. The zoo."

Jason raises the other eyebrow. "And?"

Tim. He doesn't _fidget_ , but. "Dick's one of the chaperones."

Not that Dick isn't occasionally responsible and vaguely adult-shaped, but. Dick. Dick and Damian. 

Jason sits up at that, eyes narrowing. "We should probably have a protocol for that." More Battish than usual for Jason, but. Well. Dick and Damian. 

"Probably." Tim wonders what that would even entail, and hands his phone over to Jason when he makes grabby hands at Tim.

Jason reads the texts, mouth curving upwards. Tim's phone chirps again, and then Jason starts _laughing_ , which. Could be either good or bad.

"Jason? What - "

Jason shoves Tim's phone at him and drops down onto the couch - still laughing. When Tim sees the message he knows why.

_Abort! Abort! He almost bit off a finger!_

Definitely _not_ Damian. In fact, it has a very Dick feel to it, which almost makes it worse, considering the contents of the message. "...I don't think I want to know," Tim says faintly.

Jason snags the back of Tim's shirt and pulls him down next to him on the couch. "Five bucks says we can find footage of it on Youtube later."

Tim slides a look at Jason because Tim wasn't born yesterday, thanks. He knows someone's probably uploading video of the misadventures of the Wayne heirs as they speak. (There are several Youtube channels dedicated to just that, and Tim and Jason are only responsible for a few of them.)

“Sucker's bet.”

Jason nods, smiling almost fondly because _Dick and Damian_ , and oh, God. If this is the kind of situation they get into now, what does the future hold?


	5. Fearless Little Devils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim isn't really sure how he gets this...honor, but. Apparently he's Jason's text buddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in some mishmash of Pre-Reboot DCU and DCnU. Links go to the corresponding posts on Texts From Last Night. (I, uh. There's really no explaining this one, is there?)

Tim isn't really sure how he gets this...honor, but. Apparently he's Jason's text buddy. Jason sends him texts at all hours that are in turn hilarious, vaguely traumatizing, and bewildering. There's no real pattern in that Jason will text him when he's bored, when he's being shot at (Jason's sent him pictures of people actively trying to kill him because they dress like they're from the 90s, parachute pants and all), when he's in a good mood (Jason mooning him is not something Tim ever wants to see again, picture form or not), when he's in a bad mood, and, occasionally, when he's drunk. Like now. 

_[We're all getting matching jack daniels tattoos. We're gonna be an alcoholic gang of awesome.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-39407.html) _

Tim congratulates him and gets a picture of Jason flipping him off, Roy and Kory hanging off his shoulders, laughing drunkenly in return. Tim rolls his eyes, but saves the picture to his phone after sending a copy to Dick.

********

A week later Jason sends him a picture of grungy carpeting, empty beer battles and worse littering the floor. He can see someone he thinks might be Roy sprawled on the floor at the top of the frame, fuzzy and just out of focus.

[ _I vaguely remember making out with his tattoo (?) and giving him an awesome massage and then I passed out on his floor. Shrug_](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-39518.html)

Because Jason is a class act all the way like that. Also, _interesting._

********

Jason's surprisingly quite for the next few weeks, and Tim thinks nothing of it until he gets home after a night of patrol and checks his phone to find a message from Jason.

[ ](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-39244.html)_[This is simple. Just sex and high fives. No feelings.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-39244.html) _

Tim pulls the cowl down and perches on the edge of his desk as he texts Jason, because Jason's an _idiot_. It takes an agonizingly long time before a reply comes.

_[He's grinding topless with a group of girls to that discovery channel song. May I take a message?](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-39409.html) _

Tim stares at his phone because _Jason_ , and texts back that he'll try again later, when Jason will have a chance of remembering the conversation.

********

Tim really shouldn't be too surprised when Jason texts him later that night, and yet.

_[I wanted to be mature but the vodka was resilient.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-39239.html) _

Tim stares at his phone for a long moment, texts back, _[Throwing up in his bed is not a step up in your relationship](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-39271.html)_ before turning it off and shoving it under his pillow, but thinks better of it and puts it in the nightstand drawer before going back to sleep.

********

Tim wakes up to the buzzing of his phone in the nightstand drawer. When he fumbles it open he sighs, exasperated at the message.

_  
[The only thing worse than being hungover is being hungover and not able to open your mouth wide enough to eat a cheeseburger](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-39238.html)  
_

_Tough_ , he sends. Relents. _You need to stop being an idiot about this._ Okay, so maybe not the best way to put it, but. 

_Yeah._ Jason sends back. 

********

Tim's in class when his phone vibrates, and when he checks it, he wonders why he even bothers.

[ _Everything smells like blood and olive oil._](http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-39515.html)

Tim knows Dick's incapable of cooking something without some form of disaster taking place, but. All Jason had to do was reheat the food in the oven. Alfred had done everything he could to make it foolproof. Maybe Tim had made a mistake in letting Jason take any kind of advice from _Cosmo_ , let alone advice on how to woo someone. (Tim doesn't buy Jason's explanation that it belongs to Kory because, really, she knows better.)

********

Tim ends up in the water when going after a mugger and catches some kind of bug that has him wishing for death. Instead, he gets texts from Jason that makes him wish for brain bleach. Apparently Jason's realized he's not actually in some kind of twisted romantic comedy because it's Roy, and he's Jason.

_[I texted him that I wanted to be more than fuck buddies so when I came over he gave me a punch card. He takes me I dinner every 10 fucks.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-39177.html) _

Seconds later there's another text, impossibly smug.

_[he fed me chocolate as I gave him a handjob. I felt like a princess.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-39184.html) _

Tim lets out a wordless cry of horror, anger, grief for the loss of his remaining sanity, he's not entirely sure, just that _he didn't need to know that, God, Jason, what the hell._


	6. Destiny Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim isn't really sure what's going on, just that there was magic (a lot of it), water (colder than previously advertised), and a woman (beautiful and terrifying and so very not human). Also, a sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This exists because I have friends as what are big _Dr. Who_ fans that like to tell me about things like who [River Song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ivL6qoyeU1w&feature=related) really is (spoilers!), and why I need to watch _Merlin_ , which led to terrible thoughts on my part. Sorry.
> 
> This takes place in a mishmash of Pre-Reboot DCU and DCnU.

Tim isn't really sure what's going on, just that there was magic (a lot of it), water (colder than previously advertised), and a woman (beautiful and terrifying and so very not human). Also, a sword. 

"I'm sorry?" 

The woman smiles, still beautiful, still terrifying. "It is yours, young Pendragon."

"Pendragon."

The woman nods, and now there's look in her eyes that clearly says Tim is trying her patience. "Er." Tim has no idea how he gets into these kind of situations, but he'd kind of like it to stop. "I think you have the wrong guy. My name - "

"Oh, yes," the woman hisses, eyes narrowing. "I'd almost forgotten." She looks away, down, muttering darkly to herself about meddling wizards and records and the subtle nuances and intricacies of human language, something to do with the names Pendragon and Drake, and _oh_. When she looks back at Tim it's as if nothing's happened. "I believe you humans would say something was," she pauses, mouth turning down. "Lost in translation." 

Tim stares at her (Nimue, Viviane, Elaine, Niniane, Nivian, Nyneve, Evienne, among others). Tim stares at the sword (Excalibur). Wonders where he went wrong in his life (where to start?). "I - "

"You will know," she says, no, _intones_ , pressing Excalibur in his hands, backing away towards the water (a city reservoir, hardly a place out of myth and legend). "You will know when the world needs its King once more." And then she's gone, the reservoir's surface smooth as glass.

The wizard Tim had run into before _she'd_ intervened - young, nameless, _stupid_ \- stirs, offering up a pained groan. Tim slings the sword ( _Excalibur_ ) over his shoulder and goes over to check on him, wondering what Bruce is going to make of this.

 

********

 

"So," Jason says. He has a crappy cell phone provider _and_ he's being chatty. "I hear I'm not the only one with the magic sword thing going for him these days."

Tim rubs his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. "Jason - "

"Seriously, Pretender? First you take Robin and Red Robin, and now you have to hit me where it really hurts." 

Tim's eyes pop open. "Are you kidding me?"

"I mean," Jason sounds like he's laughing, the bastard. "I thought maybe this once I could have something that was just mine, but noooo, baby bird has to go and copy me again." There's a pause. A horrible, horrible pause that means Jason is a terrible person. "It's actually kind of flattering, now that I think about it."

Tim looks at Excalibur, carefully set against his desk. Thinks about the days of King Arthur, who is apparently one of his ancestors (how did _that_ pass his family's genealogist by, let alone Bruce?). Thinks about duels and Jason's _face_.

"I really kind of hate you right now," Tim says, knowing it lacks any sort of feeling other than exasperation. 

"That's okay," Jason says, amiably enough. "Feeling's mutual."


	7. The Weight of History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few weeks after the whole reservoir incident, Jason shows up and tries to kill Tim with his magic swords, although he chooses to call it "training". Tim calls it torture, and Bruce and the others ignore everything because they're terrible people like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow-up to the previous chapter Destiny Calling

A few weeks after the whole reservoir incident, Jason shows up and tries to kill Tim with his magic swords, although he chooses to call it "training". Tim calls it torture, and Bruce and the others ignore everything because they're terrible people like that.

"So," Jason says, eyes shining with pure evil. "I guess that makes Dick Morgana, huh?"

Tim's head comes up at that. "What?"

"Oooh." Jason straightens out of the crouch he's in. "That explains so much."

"Jason, what?" Tim knows he shouldn't ask, because this is Jason, but. It's. He needs to know.

Jason looks around the training room, eyes searching the shadowed corners before he leans in to whisper. "Damian is Mordred." He gives Tim a meaningful look as he pulls back, looking _sad_. Faked, of course, but still. 

Tim stares. "Are you insane?" Trick question. "No, wait. I'm sorry." Tim gathers his thoughts. "Are you even more insane than we thought?" There, better.

Jason scowls at him, shifting so the light hits the edge of one of his swords, and, right. Probably not the greatest idea in the world to antagonize the guy with the magic swords. The fact that Tim is also in possession of a magic sword means nothing, really, because he's still learning to use it, and Jason has more experience in this area, hence the attempted murder/“training”.

"Okay," Tim says, backing up a step when Jason gestures for them to continue practicing. "So what does that make Bruce? Or Alfred, for that matter?"

Jason shrugs, loose and easy. "Depends," he says. 

Another thing Tim knows he's going to regret asking. "On?" Dancing back when Jason attacks, swords striking out at him. He barely brings Excalibur up in time to block, glaring at Jason who gives him a wolfish grin. 

"Don't let your guard down, baby bird." And then, because he's an ass, "There can be only one."

"Oh my God," Tim says, ducking another swipe of Jason's swords. " _Highlander_ references? "And you say _I'm_ the geek? Really?" Jason growls, goes on the offensive and Tim has to focus or end up with a sword through his chest.

"Shut up, baby bird." Jason holds his hands up, time-out. "But like I was saying. Depends on whether you're going by traditional Arthurian lore or _Merlin_."

Tim stares. He knows he's doing it, but. "Really?" He finds himself asking again, because really?

Jason glares. "Shut up, Kory loves it." 

Tim looks at Jason. Really. _Kory_ loves it. 

"I _will_ stab you," Jason says mildly. "And anyway, if we're going by Kory's show (sure it is), Roy says Bruce has to be Uther, only less with the genocidal thing going on and more of a 'no metas in Gotham' thing." 

That. Okay, Tim can work with that. "And Alfred?"

Jason smiles. "Gaius." There's a silent "duh" in there, which Tim chooses not to take offense at because really, it makes sense.

"So who's Merlin?"

Jason shrugs, goes to get one of the bottled waters on the bench. "Haven't figured that one out, just yet, but Kory's angling for Babs." Jason makes a face. “But she's kind of reaching there, you know? That might work for the traditional Arthurian lore, maybe.”

That. Okay, definitely a stretch, but he can see where she'd come up with that. Sort of. "Huh."

"Yeah, I know, right?" Jason asks. "I mean, you'd think my team would be interested in fighting crime and all that shit, but no. They're re-casting a stupid show with real people." Jason shakes his head, like he's sorry for them and their mental deficiencies.

"Jason - "

"Okay, now back to trying to kill you!" Jason smiles happily. 

Tim looks at him. "Wow. Now I feel even better about this. Thanks."

"Shut up," Jason says, poking at Tim with the tip of his swords. "Try to make this at least a little sporting for me, okay?"

Tim rolls his eyes. _God, his family._


	8. The Taco Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Baby bird," Jason says. "What the hell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know? I saw [this post](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-25131.html) and couldn't resist.

"Baby bird," Jason says. "What the hell."

Tim has no idea, really, but coming home to Jason sitting on his couch isn't exactly what he was expecting. "What?"

Jason sighs, looking like his life is the absolute worst, and a little bit of _why him_ , which is usually how _Tim_ feels after dealing with Jason. "So I got a text from Dick tonight."

Again, or still, Tim doesn't have any idea, something that's not entirely unusual with Jason. It's late, he's tired, and Jason's on his couch. Also, patrol was not all fun and games. It was more punching people in the head and dodging knives and bullets and Tim is tired. 

"...And?" Tim asks, pulling the cowl down and shedding the cape. "I thought he was supposed to be resting." Dick had gotten hurt a few nights ago, done something that defied physics and all known forms of logic and messed up his back. Nothing rest wouldn't handle, as long as he actually rested and took the pain killers and muscle relaxers. "Did something happen?"

Jason grimaces. "I'm not really sure." 

Tim turns at that, or really at Jason's tone of voice. "Jason?"

"Here," Jason says, and tosses his phone at Tim. Tim catches it inches from his face (really?), and glares at Jason. "What - "

"Just." Jason sighs again. "Just read it, okay?"

Tim does.

 _Tim said I dropped my taco in a puddle and still ate it_ , he reads.

"Huh," Tim says. "I didn't think he'd remember that."

Jason stares at him. "Care to explain?" 

"Not really," Tim says, one hundred percent truthfully. 

Jason keeps staring at him. "Okay," he says. "Then would you care to tell me why he's been texting me instead, of, I don't know, you maybe?"

Tim shrugs. "I think he thinks I'm mad at him about the taco." Because that doesn't sound at all crazy.

"Right." The look on Jason's face says he's thinking along the same lines. "The taco that fell in a puddle."

"That he ate anyway," Tim adds helpfully.

"Right," Jason repeats. He looks like he wants to say something, but clearly thinks better of it. 

"It's Dick," Tim says, which really? Should explain everything.

Jason nods. "Okay, yeah. I'll buy that."


	9. Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim honestly regrets visiting Jason at college sometimes. ...Most of the time, but. Well. They are family of a sort. A horribly dysfunctional family, but still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in an AU where everyone's (relatively speaking) normal because of reasons. Links go to the corresponding posts from Texts From Last Night.

Tim honestly regrets visiting Jason at college sometimes. ...Most of the time, but. Well. They are family of a sort. A horribly dysfunctional family, but still. 

"I see you changed the whiteboard message." An observation. 

Jason grins, teeth flashing. "You like it?"

And. Tim. Okay. "It's. Uh." Tim has no words, really. "It sounds like you?" He finally manages, because really, it does. He darts a look at the slightly battered message board hanging on the back of Jason's door. Jason or one of his dorm mates change the message on a random basis, and right now there's a distinctly _Jason_ message written in large block letters:

[Carpe scrotum. Grab life by the balls.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-30882.html)

Jason stares at him. "Okay, enough small talk," he says, and smacks the papers he's holding into Tim's chest and gives him a _look_.

Not sure what Jason wants from him, Tim takes the papers and starts reading. Frowns, and flips back through them again. "Okay, so." Tim's kind of at a loss. "What."

Jason rolls his eyes like Tim's being dense. "It's a resumé ."

Tim can sort of see that. Maybe. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt in this case."

"Oh, come on," Jason says. "It's not that bad."

Not that bad. Right. "Jason," Tim says, with far more patience than he knew he had. "You wrote '[I'm really good at handling things like foreskin and speech impediments.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-32719.html)' as one of your skills."

Jason looks at Tim like, really, _what's the big deal here, Tim?_ , because he doesn't see what the problem is, of course he doesn't.

"...You realize I'm trying to get into Roy's pants, right, Tim?"

And, tragically, yes, Tim knows. Tim's known for the last however long it's been since Jason noticed _Roy isn't exactly hard on the eyes, Timmy_ and, _Goddamn, that_ ass _, Tim._.

"Maybe." Tim bites his lip. "Maybe you should ask Dick for help." Except, no. Dick would probably put in something worse, and. Wait. No. Jason's applying to be Roy's babysitter, so that might actually work. "Seriously, he'd be better for this."

"Are you kidding me?" Jason asks. "Dick would blab to Roy."

...Like Jason's being subtle, sure. "Er." Tim. "I." What even. "What do you want me to do?"

"Work your magic?" he asks, like he doesn't really know what he wants Tim to do himself. Then he frowns, actually thinking about it. "Maybe not make me sound like - "

"A psycho?" Tim asks, already reaching for one of the pens living on Jason's floor. "Or some kind of raging lunatic?" Because really, that earlier bit he'd read back to Jason had been one of the better parts of the resume. Tim wonders what Jason will do when he's going after an actual job and not. Well, whatever he's trying for here.

"Yeah," Jason says, voice sliding into a growl. "That'll be great, Timmy. Thanks."

Tim rolls his eyes and sets to work. It's not like he actually needs to apply to be Roy's babysitter - Roy's known him for years, but. It probably makes some kind of sense to Jason, or maybe he's just bored, who knows.

Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Jason toss a pair of balled up socks at the Nerf basketball hoop hanging on his window, throwing his arms up when he makes the basket and making cheering sounds. Tim tries not to smile because really, but. _Really_.

********

Tim gets an inkling of what Jason's been up to when he gets a text message a week later.

[i'm exhausted. do you know how hard it is to put together an outfit that is professional enough to secure a babysitting job yet slutty enough to let him know i'm down for sex during naptime?](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-39761.html)

"Oh, God." Tim stares at his phone in horror because _Jason_. 

********

Dick. Dick is a _bastard_. He hasn't stopped laughing since Tim told him about Jason and Jason's latest bout of intense crazy.

"Oh, Roy knows," Dick says, around the laughter, curled up in a ball on the couch, and _are those actual tears_? "He's just trying to see how far Jason's willing to go to get into his pants."

Tim stares at Dick. Looks at his phone and the picture Jason sent of his "interview clothes" and there is no way Tim is going to be able to forget any of this. 

"I hate you." He aims a kick at Dick, but currently dying of laughter or not, he's _Dick_. Tim tries to jump back when Dick makes a grab for his ankle and ends up unbalancing himself, arms windmilling as he falls, Dick laughing even harder now, and things like this. Things like this are why he hates his family.

********

Well, that and all the the ways Jason does his best to traumatize Tim, like _this_.

[I'm pretty sure my lung is caught on my rib. And I can't feel the left side of my face. Best. Sex. Ever.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-38618.html)


	10. Paper Airplanes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Here." A pause. "You do know how to make a paper airplane, right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I don't know, just. Paper airplanes, okay. I haven't made one in years and there are all these [neat-o designs](http://www.10paperairplanes.com/). Also, I am suuuper tired. :)?

"...What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Making paper airplanes?" That probably shouldn't have been a question, and yet.

"Yes, yes I am."

Ah. But then. "Why?"

"Well, you know." A shrug. "Because."

"Because."

"Exactly."

"...I don't really know what's going on right now."

"Perfect, grab a chair and join me."

"...Because?"

"Because."

"Okay." Because why not, really.

"Here." A pause. "You do know how to make a paper airplane, right?"

In theory, yes. "Yes?" That also probably shouldn't have been a question.

"Okay. Okay, watch me."

Fold and fold and fold. Press down, tear carefully, and once more. Take one piece, then fold, fold, fold, fold. Flip it over, bend and fold. Scissors, now, and cut, and cut. Bend slightly, and.

"Ta-da, you are now the proud owner of a paper airplane." Lowered voice, suspicious looking smile. "It's called [The Bat](http://www.10paperairplanes.com/how-to-make-paper-airplanes/04-the-bat.html), I thought you'd like that." 

"Hilarious." And yet. Pull the arm back, forward now, and let go. Watch it fly, watch it hit the other wall. Amazing, for something so simple."...Do you know any other designs?"

"A few." Slight smile.

"Show me?"


	11. Based on a True Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's going through the available Avatar items for the game that dare not speak its name for it is an abomination. And also, Kon and the other Titans are still giving him crap for it, and probably will until the end of time because that's just the kind of friends they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been playing _Batman: Arkham City_ again. Spoilers for the game, but everything else is gravy.

"Dick."

"How is this fair?" 

Dick's going through the available Avatar items for the game that dare not speak its name for it is an abomination. And also, Kon and the other Titans are still giving him crap for it, and probably will until the end of time because that's just the kind of friends they are.

"[Bruce](http://marketplace.xbox.com/en-US/Product/Batman-Arkham-City/66acd000-77fe-1000-9115-d80257520802?DownloadType=AvatarItem#LiveZone) has, like, a million costumes. [You](http://marketplace.xbox.com/en-US/Product/Robin-Costume/00000ffc-3642-62f1-c84a-b6dc57520802) have a costume. [Selina](http://marketplace.xbox.com/en-US/Product/Catwoman-Costume/00000ffc-944d-a2c2-c5f1-525e57520802) has a costume. [Harley](http://marketplace.xbox.com/en-US/Product/Harley-Quinn-Costume/00000ffc-3946-22d2-c0d7-861d57520802) has a costume. [_Joker_](http://marketplace.xbox.com/en-US/Product/Joker-Costume/00000ffc-8241-0281-c8c4-663d57520802) has a costume." Dick spares a moment to scowl at Tim, like Tim has anything to do with this. "All I get is a stupid [t-shirt.](http://marketplace.xbox.com/en-US/Product/Nightwing-Logo-T-Shirt/00000008-204f-4251-ceca-b43857520802)"

Hmm. How best to do this? "Dick, you realize the costume they gave me is the lovechild of Damian and my suits, right?" A little horrifying to think about, but yes. This is what he, they - because Damian blames Tim for that too, like it's Tim's fault - get when the game developers can't decide between which suit they like better and choose to "be creative" with the suit design. 

"And!" Dick drops the game controller and twists around to look at Tim. "I'm not even in the game! At all!"

Er. "You are," Tim starts, carefully. "It's downloadable content."

"For the challenge rooms!" Dick bursts out. "The challenge rooms, Tim! I was there too, you know, why don't I get to be in the game?" He's gesturing with his hands now. "Based on a true story, Tim. Based on a true story!"

Oh, God. What. "Dick." Seriously, _what_. "You know that the game is, and I'm being generous here, maybe five percent faithful to what actually happened, right? I mean. Half of the people who died in the game are still alive. Joker broke out of Arkham last Friday. Bruce caught Strange last night." Plus, Deadshot wasn't even in the country at the time, so.

Dick gives Tim a look that says Tim just doesn't get it. "Not the point, Tim. So not the point."

Tim doesn't want to know what the point is, if Dick's getting this worked up over a game that's supposedly based on them and. _It's a game_.

"...I don't actually talk like that." Or look like that, really. And also, "But look at the way they handled your character." He actually moves like someone with the kind of training Dick has does. 

Dick makes a thoughtful noise, conceding that point. "True." He still doesn't look happy. 

Tim really doesn't feel up to dealing with this tonight, or, really, _ever_. "Okay, uh." Tim honestly doesn't know what he can say here because, really. " _Halo_?" That seems pretty safe. 

Dick's eyes narrow. "Capture the flag?"

And. Sure, why not. "Okay, yeah."

Dick tosses the second controller at Tim. "All right, Timmy," he says. "Prepare to get your ass kicked."

Tim rolls his eyes, relieved that Dick's decided to drop this. Whatever it was as he hops over the back of the couch. Please, as _if_."


	12. Detoured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Titus is calm, still, waiting for Damian. The moment Damian takes hold of his collar Titus adjusts his pace for Damian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of scenes [inspired by teakat](http://solakid.tumblr.com/post/25490130849/tabithian-headcanon-steph-is-the-reason#notes-container).

Titus is calm, still, waiting for Damian. The moment Damian takes hold of his collar Titus adjusts his pace for Damian.

“Not that way, ridiculous beast, I can smell the flowers over there.” Damian says, pulling Titus in the right direction. “Find the stairs.”

Alfred keeps a vase of flowers in an alcove by the stairs, beautifully scented, something they take for granted on a normal day. Today is anything but.

Titus' ears twitch, and he whines, unsure.

“The stairs, Titus. Find the stairs.” Damian's voice is even, carefully controlled, aware of the eyes on him, watching.

Titus whines again, and sets off for the stairs, gaining confidence when Damian doesn't correct him.

“Good boy, Titus,” Damian says, when they reach the stairs, reaching for the bannister with his free hand. “Good boy.”

********

Tim waits until the yelling dies down, until things stop being thrown. He waits until Dick leaves. He waits until Bruce comes up for air, chased out of the 'cave by Alfred.

A light knock on the door, and nothing thrown, no harsh invective. The doorknob turns easily, so he opens the door. Waits.

Damian's seated on the edge of his bed, Titus' head resting on his leg, eyes focused on his master's face. Damian's head is bowed, face hidden from view. One hand gripping Titus' collar, the other absently scratching his ears.

"Grayson, I told you I do not want - " Damian lifts his head, tilts it to the side as though he's listening to something. The bandages wrapped over his eyes stand out in stark contrast against his skin. "Drake." Tim's eyes narrow as Damian's grip on Titus' collar tightens, the only sign to betray him. "Come to see what downfall my pride has led me to, Drake?"

Not Damian's fault, no, but he won't listen to reason. It could have been any of them, in the wrong place at the wrong time. A charge no one had expected, noticed, triggered by a man desperate enough not to care who got caught in the fallout. It could have been any of them, but this time it was Damian.

He dealt with it well enough at first, Titus acting as his eyes, refusing to leave his side. Damian had reacquainted himself with the manor and its grounds over the past few days. Earlier that day Damian had gone to the 'cave and argued Dick into a sparring match. Not the best idea just yet.

Damian had been angry, frustrated, but it wasn't until later, after, that he reached a breaking point, a small one, but still enough. Something small, simple, a misstep, and trip and a fall, and. Something small, simple, and now here they are. Damian angry and sullen, fully realizing the impact of what happened. Striking out, acting out, angry and hurt and scared, under it all, scared.

"No," Tim says, closing the door behind him. "I wanted to know how you were doing."

"Why not say what you mean?" Damian demands.

Tim doesn't answer, doesn't make a sound. He walks toward the windows, Damian tracking him by movement, by sound. Tim stops, sees Damian scowl. Then walks towards the desk, Damian's face turned towards him.

"Say what you came to say, then leave." Angry, but. Something else too.

"Leslie said this was temporary." If they were lucky. If they got to him in time. If the damage wasn't as extensive as it appeared to be. If, if, if.

"A lie told to pacify."

"No faith in your superior genes?" A low blow, perhaps, but -

"Enough," Damian hisses, seething. "If you have nothing useful to say, leave."

"Suit up." Tim says. Damian hides it well, but he definitely wasn't expecting that.

"Are you mad?" he asks, raising a hand to gesture at his eyes. "Or have you decided to seize the opportunity to remove your rival, now that I am vulnerable?"

Oh, how it must have hurt to admit to such a thing, and also, still a little brat. That Tim thinks that fondly, well. "There's a guy in New York," Tim says. "Blinded as a child." Tim smiles, knowing what Damian's reaction will be. "He doesn't let it stop him."

Damian snorts. "Yes, this 'Daredevil' person Grayson told me about." A dismissive curl of his lip. "I had not taken you to be one for fairytales, Drake. The man is an urban legend."

Not unlike them.

"I'll meet you in the cave in ten minutes, don't be late." They have a small window of opportunity, best not to chance it.

"You _are_ mad," Damian says in a wondering sort of tone.

"No more than the rest of us," Tim says, smiling a little. "Ten minutes, no more."

********

“I was right, you are trying to kill me!”

Tim adjusts his blindfold. Shifts his weight as the train takes the turn, smiles when he hears Damian grumbling.

“This is child's play for someone like me Drake, are you truly such an imbecile?”

“Shut up and focus,” Tim says, cocking his head to listen. They should be just about there by now.

A faint thump and -

“Thought I'd find you two here.”

“Grayson.” Damian sounds. Uncertain is the least of it.

Tim smiles, turns his head towards Dick. “Barbara rat us out?” They weren't trying to hide, really. Just get a head start.

Dick makes an amused noise and cuffs Tim lightly on the back of his head. “You get to be the one to explain this to Bruce,” he says, disturbingly cheerful, and why not? Tim's the one dragged Damian onto a moving train when he can't see. Yeah, trouble. Tim's found himself a whole lot of it.

“...Not happy, huh?”

Dick laughs, like Tim just told the best damn joke in the world because Dick's an awful human being. “Oh, Timmy, _no_.”

Damian doesn't laugh, really, more of a bark of amusement, sharp. “Perhaps this wasn't such a waste of time after all,” he says, because he really is a horrible little brat.

Tim sighs. “I hate both of you. I just want you to know that.”

“Noted!” Damian and Dick say in unison because they're terrible people.

Still, Tim doesn't regret it when Dick leans close again and says, “Good idea, little brother.”


	13. Glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim kind of hates his life sometimes. (Often.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept seeing posts on my Tumblr featuring glasses being used as part of a disguise, and then this happened. I'm sorry. :)?

Tim kind of hates his life sometimes. (Often.) 

"Jason - "

"Look at me! I'm totally not Jason Todd!" 

Tim feels the urge to punch something. Hard. (Something the same general shape and size of Jason's face should do nicely.)

"Whee!"

 _Oh my God_ , Tim thinks. "Oh my God, Jason. What."

Coming home to find Jason in his apartment shouldn't be this strange. Probably. "...Are you." Hmm. Asking Jason if he's crazy is pointless because _Jason_. There are other factors to consider, like toxins and whatnot, but really, that demented gleam in Jason's eye is perfectly lucid, and sadly all too familiar.

"What do you want, Jason?" 

Jason takes the glasses he's wearing - Tim's glasses - and studies them. "The glasses, they do nothing!"

Tim raises an eyebrow. "What." 

Jason tosses the glasses at Tim and crosses his arms looking smug and kind of stupid, really. "Just came by to offer you a little tip, baby bird."

Tim examines the glasses for damage - they scratch easily, and he always forgets to do something about that. With the amount of money Bruce has sunk into their night jobs, the gadgets and whatnot they use, there has to be something that actually is scratch-proof. "Oh? What's that?"

"Glasses," Jason says, like he's delivering divine wisdom unto Tim, "make for a shitty disguise."

Tim looks up at that. "What?"

Jason gestures at the glasses Tim's holding with flick of his hand. "You're all kind of idiots, you know? I mean." Jason shrugs. "Clark, the clone, and you with your," Jason waggles his hand, "whatever the hell that's supposed to be. Some kind of super geek? Anyway. Glasses. Not the best disguise." He smirks. "FYI."

Well, you'd think so, but. "They work." Or, well. They seem to? It's complicated. 

"Yeah," Jason says, giving Tim a look. "About that. You do know Lois isn't exactly an idiot, right? And I don't know about the kinds of people the clone hangs around with when he's not off fighting for truth, justice, and the American way or whatever, but. I'm pretty sure not all of them are that stupid."

Tim's eyes narrow. 

"And," Jason shrugs. "Who knows, maybe all your buddies are idiots too, but I'm pretty sure one of them must have noticed something."

"I - 

"Hey, no," Jason says, holding his hands up. "You just go right on ahead and pretend everyone around you is a moron who won't figure out that you're one pair of broken glasses away from being that." Jason waves a hand at Tim in his Red Robin suit. 

"...Why would they be broken?" Tim finds himself asking, like _that's_ the important thing to focus on. (It's not as though he wears the glasses that often, they're for a specific disguise, but still.)

Jason tries, Tim will give him that, to keep a straight face as he says, "Well obviously someone's going to punch you in the face." Pause. "You just have the kind of face people want to punch." 

Kind of like Jason, really. "Thanks for the concern," Tim says, rolling his eyes. 

"Oh, believe me, baby bird, it was my pleasure," Jason says, smiling wide and obnoxious, making for the window. 

Tim watches him leave, looks down at the glasses. They really shouldn't work as well as they do because Jason's right, they make for an exceedingly flimsy disguise. "how does that even work?" he wonders. It defies logic, but in their world logic rarely has a place. Or, rather, the conventional kind of logic, because really, _how_?


	14. Tiny Adventures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That time Dick got hit with a shrink ray and Steph was ridiculous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/26026199238/today-was-one-of-those-really-weird-days-so-when

Tim actually has the night off (okay, so it's a sprained ankle, same thing, right?) when the window next to the fire escape slides open and Steph pops in. She's holding her hands up in front of her, with a smile on her face Tim has learned through experience not to trust.

"Hey, Steph," he says by way of greeting. "How was patrol?" Tim watches her warily, gaze drawn to her hands, one cupped over the other like she's holding something, and she's _still smiling_. "...Steph?"

"Hold my Dick!" She yells, thrusting her hands at Tim while cackling and generally looking like a crazy person.

Tim backs up a step, and looks down to see - "Dick?" It _is_ Dick. A tiny, tiny Dick clinging to Steph's thumb for dear life. "I." Tim's used to bizarre things in their line of work, but. "What happened?"

Steph pushes closer. "Hold my Dick!" she says again, clearly waiting for the right response, which. What even.

Tim blinks as a high-pitched noise registers, and stares down at Dick, who is _laughing_ , slumped against the base of Steph's thumb, one arm around his ribs because of course he thinks this is hilarious. A look at Steph's wide grin and, yeah, they're the same kind of ridiculous, those two.

"Seriously," Steph says, taking one of Tim's hands and turning it over, fingers flat as she holds her hand up the same way, forming a bridge for Dick to cross. "Hold on to him, okay? Cass and I are going after the guy who did this, we'll have him back to normal in no time." Another slightly crazed smile - it's Steph, and she's back out the window.

Tim looks down at Dick, who looks up at him, hands on his hips. "Hey, Dick," Tim says, still a little befuddled. Still, Steph and Cass seem certain they have things under control, so.

"Hungry?"

Dick nods, beaming as he hugs Tim's thumb, and of course Dick would still be the huggy type even when he's been miniaturized.


	15. Robots in Disguise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So," Tim says, looking at the Redbird. "I think we have a problem."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First there was [this](http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/26098950460/that-time-nightwing-and-robin-got-together-with), and then this happened. (...I'm so sorry, everyone.)

"So," Tim says, looking at the Redbird. "I think we have a problem."

"You think?" Dick replies, and oh, there's a familiar sound in the background, a distinctly mechanical sound. 

"Huh." Not just Tim, then. "...How's Bruce taking it?" 

" _Robin_." More of a growl than usual, so probably not all that well, surface appearances aside.

"We come in peace." Redbird says, which. So very not reassuring. 

"Uh." 

"Take me to your leader."

Tim has a very strong urge to facepalm. So not only is the Redbird sentient, but it's a fan of old (bad) science fiction movies. He blames Dick, mostly because that's usually a safe bet. 

"Why don't we go see the Bruce and the others (Tim _really_ needs to see the Batmobile right now, because of reasons), and you can tell us what's going on, okay?"

Redbird must agree because it - he? - transforms from a giant red robot to the usual lines of the car Tim's been using for, well, a while. (Years.) 

********

"This is the best thing ever," Dick says, latching onto Tim the moment they get to the cave. "Also, Bruce is having a meltdown, just so you know."

Tim looks over to where Bruce is scowling up at the Batmobile, arms crossed like he thinks that's going to intimidate a giant robot. (It might, if said robot wasn't the Batmobile, who's seen Bruce in various stages of being Bruce.)

"Wow," Tim says, because Bruce really is totally having a meltdown.

"Yeah," Dick says, grinning. "She's not falling for any of his crap."

Good for her - 

"Wait, what?" 

And now Dick's laughing, curling up with the force of it because he's _five_. 

“She’s awesome, Tim.”

Well she’d have to be, wouldn’t she.

Tim looks at Redbird, who gives the impression of being just as amused about things as Dick is and. Well, giant robots.

"Totally the best thing ever," Tim agrees, because really. Best. Thing. Ever.


	16. A Thousand Miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason doesn’t even realize it’s happening until it’s too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er. I started thinking after [posting this](http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/26249139765/how-to-train-your-jason-its-like-hiccup-and), so. Yeah. :)?

Jason doesn't even realize it's happening until it's too late.

He's actually in the middle of sketching out his original strategy he'd come up with to break up an arms deal down by the docks on a dry erase board the Replacement has set up in one of his “nests” when he realizes what's happening. What's _been_ happening. 

Regular meetings, usually over breakfast or lunch to trade information they'd gathered for one another. Tim's "Oh, hey, so I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop by," when they were in the same city even though Jason the others might be in California or, say, Hong Kong or any of a dozen other cities and countries. (And while Jason may not know all the capitals for all the countries, he does know South America is nowhere near Germany, and really, Tim's a better liar than that.)

"The hell," Jason says, stepping back when Tim takes the marker from him and offers his input, a different way of doing things and Jason _doesn't actually mind_ , doesn't get defensive or bristle. (He has Roy and Kory to think about now too, after all.)

"Hmm?" Tim asks, tapping the capped end of the marker against his lips. "Oh, you could have used an explosive charge here - maybe half the usual amount would have done it," he says, drawing a little picture of a cartoon bomb, round, black body with a fuse sticking out of it, next to a wall. 

"What are you doing, Replacement?" It feels, strange to call him that, and Jason realizes - the kid's _sneaky_ \- he hasn't called him that in a while now. 

Tim makes a face at Jason, like _Jason's_ being dense. "I don't know what you're talking about, Jason," he says, because he's a beautiful liar, one of the best Jason's ever seen.

"Fucking hell," Jason mutters, staring at Tim with a new kind of respect. "Dickie-bird warned me about you, and I still fell for it."

Well, Dick hadn't so much warned Jason about Tim's devious little brain so much as told Jason that he was good, very, very good. (Jason hadn't really been listening at the time, more invested in knocking Dick down a peg or two, back when he was angrier, memories of the Pit fresh and vivid and oh so terrifying.)

Tim manages to keep the look of polite confusion mixed with impatience mixed with annoyance going for a few moments more, like he's trying to wait Jason out. (For someone with such a good poker face, he can be amazingly expressive with just the set of his eyebrows.)

"Oh, fuck you, Replacement," Jason growls, because he's screwed, isn't he. Little bastard's grown on him, and fuck Dick for saying it would happen sooner or later because. "You're a sneaky little bastard."

Tim actually rolls his eyes. "Uh, you do remember what it is I do, right?" he asks, because not only is he a sneaky bastard, he's a snarky one too.

"...You shut up,” Jason says, defeated. Defeated by a brat he could break in half like a twig because Tim is scrawny. Tiny and scrawny and Jason has no idea how Bruce ever let him out in the Robin suit, if this is what he looks like _now_. (No wonder Dick's so protective when it comes to Tim. )

Tim smiles, small and crooked, and, oh, Jason is so very screwed because it makes him feel fond of the fucker. 

“So, uh.” Tim _fidgets_. “Did you want to keep doing this?” he asks, pointing at the dry erase board with the marker, but there's something in his voice that seems to be asking Jason -

Oh for fuck's sake. Jason glares, snatching the marker back from Tim. “You're an idiot,” he says, pushing past him to add in the jackasses who'd been toting full automatics and the really shitty sniper they'd had watching the docks.

Tim blinks at him, surprised, and then a little pleased when Jason points out the slim pickings they'd had when it came to cover and asks Tim if he sees something Jason missed, and Jason. Okay, he can maybe get used to this, to having a sneaky little shit for a bro – acquaintance. Maybe.


	17. Other Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dickie-bird's going to love it," Jason says, smirking. "Seriously, baby bird, how do these things happen to you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the previous parts [Destiny Calling](http://archiveofourown.org/works/414412/chapters/724018) and [The Weight of History](http://archiveofourown.org/works/414412/chapters/725925).

"I won't forget this." He won't. 

"Oh, come on, it's hilarious." Jason says, because he's an ass. "Seriously. Just put it on."

Tim bares his teeth. "No." 

Jason tilts his head, eyes narrowed. "Do it, or you get to live in Barbie's Malibu Dreamhouse with Lian's action figures." (A Green Arrow action figure modified by Roy to match Roy's costume, not to mention the ones for her family - including all of her aunts and uncles - like a miniature All-Star superhero team. There was even a toy Titus for Damian, courtesy of Dick and his ridiculousness in wanting to make sure Lian's action figure Bat family stayed up to date.)

" _Jason._ "

Jason's eyebrows go up. "You think I wouldn't do it?" 

And. Ugh. " _Fine_ , Tim growls. 

Jason cackles - unmitigated _ass_ \- and pushes the small bundle of...clothes at Tim. 

Tim sighs and reaches for the tiny helmet and cape. He eyes the shield, a badly rendered dragon rampant in bright yellow, and shoots Jason a suspicious look. He knows Jason thinks it's hilarious that Tim is related to King Arthur, but. Jason actually having an action figure based on Arthur is. Well. Indicative of Jason's horrible sense of humor, really. (Tim really doesn't want to know what Jason had planned for it because he has the feeling Tim's humiliation played a large part.)

Tim prods the mail shirt - the plastic it's made of reeks, no way he's wearing it - and the cheap toy version of Excalibur. He still has the real thing, so he ignores the flimsy plastic one. The helmet is too big, shaped oddly, but that doesn't stop Jason from taking a picture with his cell phone when Tim strikes a half-hearted pose, Excalibur held up in one hand while the other holds the shield.

"Dickie-bird's going to love it," Jason says, smirking. "Seriously, baby bird, how do these things happen to you?"

Tim sighs and yanks the helmet off, holding it under his arm. "Probably because you asked me for help." 

That Tim had agreed, well. His own stupid fault, really. The two of them together had probably posed too tempting a target to magic users, or whoever had whammied him.

"You really don't have room to talk," Tim points out, because hello, Jason has not one, but two magic swords. Tim...really doesn't know what's going on here, just. Augh.

"Whatever, baby bird. You'll notice I wasn't the one they went after this time, as proven by the fact I am not currently - Jesus, how tall are you, anyway?" Jason holds his hand out next to Tim for scale, setting it down a little too heavily on the table, causing Tim to stagger.

"Watch it!" Tim yells, reaching out to lay a hand on Jason's fingers for support. "And you don't get to laugh about this, Jason! 

Jason just laughs because he's Jason and he thrives on the misery of others - or, well, the misery of his brothers at any rate. Tim sighs. 

"I hate you." He really, really does. 

Jason smirks. "Yeah, me too, baby bird, now smile, Dickie-bird wants more pictures."


	18. Circle of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For the record," Kon says, words coming out with a slight growl behind it. "This was the worst idea ever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was just an excuse to write something where Tim, Kon, and Bart were big cats because of reasons? IDK. [Tim's a jaguar](http://i46.tinypic.com/9sylxi.jpg), [Kon's a liger](http://i49.tinypic.com/11gj2fd.jpg) (hybrid between a lion and a tiger), and [Bart's a king cheetah](http://tinypic.com/r/6i5if8/6). No, really. IDK. *hands*

"For the record," Kon says, words coming out with a slight growl behind it. "This was the worst idea ever."

"Oh, I don't know," Tim says, hidden in the branches of one of the trees. "People have done worse than this. Trust me, trying to make a bigger, better video game isn't so bad in comparison."

Oh, well, when he puts it like _that_. But really, what idiot turns a learning AI loose in a virtual reality environment and doesn't expect it to go HAL 9000 on them? (Okay, maybe not as murderous as that, but really. Who does something like that?)

Kon snorts, ears flattening against his head when something deeper in the forest shrieks. "I feel like Simba."

"Hakuna Matata!" Bart yells, zooming past like the damn Roadrunner, a blur of black and gold, tail streaming behind him.

Tim laughs, a rumbling growl as he drops out of the tree in front of him. "At least they used something relatively benign like _Kingdom Hearts_ , Kon." Tim sort of rolls forward, movements fluid. "Heartless aside, I'd rather this than, say, _Call of Duty_."

And, again, when he puts it like _that_. Still. "I have a crappy mane, Tim," Kon whines, shaking his head for emphasis. "I look Like Luthor." Or would, if Luthor ever ventured in here, which he would never do, so. Moot point. Whatever.

Another rumbling growl, Tim brushing against Kon before turning the direction Bart ran off in. Of course Bart would be a cheetah in this stupid game.

"Come on, we've got a job to do before you can re-claim the Pridelands."

Kon growls. "Not funny, Tim."

Tim laughs, nudging Kon again. "We should catch up with Bart."

And. Good idea. "I still don't like this."

"Noted," Tim says, amusement thick in his voice. "Now hurry up, you don't want Bart to have all the fun, do you?"

Unfair, and also, _no_.


	19. Hello World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim watches Jason, corner of his mouth ticking up with each new greeting Jason voices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw [this page](http://i45.tinypic.com/b4t0lx.jpg) from Batman and Robin #11 and was just, "Jason. What are you even doing?" because it's adorable.

Tim watches Jason, corner of his mouth ticking up with each new greeting Jason voices. And then Jason turns to him, eyebrow going up in a _what are_ you _looking at_ sort of way.

Tim gives the smile full reign at that point, because _Jason_. "Hello, Jason."

Jason snorts. "Hello, pain in my ass." Almost believable, but for the amusement in his voice, his eyes.

"I have the information you wanted." Tim holds up a flash drive, loaded with files on a certain gang that's been moving in on Jason's territory. Easy enough to get, but Jason's been busy with his Outlaws and this gang is ambitious. 

"Yeah?" Jason crosses his arms. Looks down at Tim. Trying for intimidating, maybe, or just too cool for school, both are likely.

Tim shrugs, tossing the flash drive in his hand lightly. "Yeah."

Jason narrows his eyes, like _that's_ going to intimidate Tim after years of Bruce being his usual charming self. 

"You're going to get wrinkles." Tim's smile slides into a smirk. "Wouldn't want that, now would you."

Jason rolls his eyes, turns away, peeling his jacket of. "Hilarious, baby bird." 

Tim shrugs. He admits it's not his best, but he hadn't really tried. "Sorry." Only he's not and Jason obviously knows it form the short bark of a laugh. 

"Fucking liar." Jason sounds almost fond, looking back at Tim with a faint smile. 

Another shrug, true enough. "Do you want help with this?" Odds are god Jason will say no, too much like Bruce that way sometimes, which is why Tim has to ask. (Batman needs a Robin and sometimes Robin needs a Robin, or in some cases an ex-Robin.)

Jason _looks_ at him, eyes narrowed, like he's waiting for the catch, the trick. "Baby bird - "

"If you want my help, you've got it." It's a simple enough offer, but Tim knows Jason won't see it that way. Tim tosses the flash drive at Jason who catches it deftly. "You know where to find me." So cliche it hurts, but that's their life most of the time. He smiles. Gets up to leave. "Goodbye, Jason."

Jason scowls. "Seriously, pain in my ass."

It's not like Tim tries, really. Jason just brings that side out in Tim. "See you around, Jason." Tim leaves through the window, smiling as he feels Jason's glare. (It's possible Tim's been around Dick too much to find that deeply hilarious.)

**********  
**********

Also, there is this, which is crackish:

 

"Are you." Tim squints at Jason, who looks like he's trying to kill Tim with his brain for more than the casual home invasion. "Jason. What are you doing?"

Jason draws his arm back and sends the helmet he's holding flying at Tim's head with a frustrated growl. Tim ducks, looks back to where the helmet is now lodged in one of Jason's walls and. Seriously?

"Jason."

Jason reaches for a knife.

" _Jason_."

"It's for Harper's kid, you bastard!" Jason yells, hand dropping back to his side. Because that makes sense?

"What?"

"Fucking Harper's kid." Jason repeats, running a hand through his hair. "Has to say hello to every damn thing everywhere she goes." He sighs. "It's contagious or something." His shoulders sag. "Christ."

That's. Wow. That's interesting. "I see."

Jason's eyes narrow. "I am completely within my rights to shoot an intruder in my home, you know."

Right. Because the police will just clap Jason on the shoulder and tell him "Good job, Red Hood!" after he explains everything to them. "You're an ass." Tim tosses the flash drive with the information Jason wanted on a new gang pushing in on his territory. "Let me know if you need help." 

Jason catches the flash drive, scowl turning into a glare at Tim's offer. "I don't - "

"Of course you don't." Tim smiles, showing his teeth. Just a little. Jason's an ass, but he's theirs.


	20. Raise it Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There's something here," Kon says, insistent, tail lashing. "Like. I don't know, a rabbit?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows [Circle of Life](http://archiveofourown.org/works/414412/chapters/797671). :D?

"Kon." Tim sighs, whiskers drooping. Kon's sniffing around what looks like a burrow at the base of a rock outcropping. Bart's sprawled out on the outcropping, basking in the sun, long tail hanging off the side.

"There's something here," Kon says, insistent, tail lashing. "Like. I don't know, a rabbit?"

"A rabbit." 

Kon backs away from the burrow - den? - looking back at Tim. "I think so? Are there even rabbits here?" He makes a disgusted face as his stomach rumbles loudly. "I'm starving."

Tim sighs again. Time moves faster in here and it feels like they've been in here for over a day without finding any sign of the people who were at the Expo with them. (Tim's caught sight of a figure in a dark cloak in the distance, shadowing them, but never coming close enough to identify. He has a feeling they're going to meet sooner or later, and it still remains to be seen if this mysterious figure is friend or foe.)

When he finds out who gave the okay for this debacle (had none of them ever seen a science-fiction movie or read a book in that genre?) he's going to make sure they have a firm grasp on the potential dangers and consequences involved in creating advanced technology like artificial intelligences. (He actually considered making sure they've seen and read the relevant material, but worries that doing so might give them ideas, and no one wants Skynet. Well, no one sane, anyway.)

"There are Cape Hares, and oh! Oh, spring hares," Bart offers, rolling on his back and waving his paws idly. "Spring hares aren't really hares, though." A moment goes by where he tracks the movements of a flight of birds across the sky. "They're kind of like a R.O.U.S.!"

"What?" Kon asks, batting at Bart's tail. “Like _Princess Bride_?”

"Rodents of Unusual size," Tim says, mulling it over. When Kon looks at him he shrugs, an unusual enough things to do at the moment. "Probably not."

Kon sighs. "How about you put your brain to use and help me out here, Bart."

Bart rolls back over and crouches above them, in a flurry of movement. "As you wish!" he chirps, laughing at Kon's growl as he scrambles down to join them. 

Tim snorts out a laugh in spite of himself and settles down to watch. Bart startling when something takes a swipe at him, jostling Kon.

"There _is_ something in there!" Bart says, inching back towards the mouth of the burrow. And sticks one paw in front of it, like a surreal version of the hand slap game.

"Bart - "

"It's fine, I've got it! "

Angry growling, and Bart's startled yelp as whatever's in the burrow - definitely not a rabbit, hare, or R.O.U.S. bursts out of the ground, snapping and snarling, kicking up dirt that obscures the area. 

Tim's on his feet and headed towards them when he realizes it's not just snarling, that there are words in there. Tight, angry, _scared_. 

Also, deeply familiar.

"Fall back!" Tim snaps, relieved when Bart dances back, Kon flanking him. 

"Tim,” Kon warns, worried.

Tim doesn't look at Kon or Bart, attention focused on the dark figure crouched low to the ground as the dust settles. 

Small, smaller than them. Her ears are laid back against her head, sharp little teeth bared. It's not fear he sees in her eyes, but anger, determination. 

"Hello, Tam," he says, laughing a little when he gets a good look at her. He can see her in the way she moves when she stands, her eyes snapping to Kon and Bart edging up on either side of him. Curious, a little wary. Not about to back down.

"...Tim?"

Tim stares at her, the ashy gray of her fur and raccoon-like markings on her face. 

"Oh," Bart says, stretching his neck out to get a better look at her. "That makes sense."

Tim glances at him, fairly sure he never told Bart about their adventure in the Unternet or Foxy Lady, but Tam and her family are well known figures.

"It really does," Tim agrees, amused because _Tam_.

"She's a bat-eared fox," Tim says, at Kon's look. "Also, this is Tam." Tim pauses, tail twitching in amusement, even when she snaps her teeth at him in annoyance. "Tam Fox."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is what Tam looks like.](http://i47.tinypic.com/2e49frr.jpg)


	21. Small Victories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's been out of Gotham for what feels like too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet thing related to [this headcanon](http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/28111816790/dick-sees-one-of-these-when-hes-passing-a-store) of mine.

Dick's been out of Gotham for what feels like too long. Alfred's the one to let him know Damian's caught some kind of bug, something he's not shaking off as quickly as he normally would. Nothing alarming, but there was a hint of reproach in there for him being away for such an extended period of time. 

Apparently he's not the only one who feels that way because he gets a text from Tim. 

_He's been wearing it for_ days.

Dick frowns, expression smoothing out when Tim sends another text, accompanied by a photo. [ The subject in it is blurry - in motion - but the splash of blue below an all too familiar scowl is unmistakeable](http://i47.tinypic.com/2cduc00.jpg).

That brings out a smile and a little kick to his chest because he never expected Damian to keep the stupid thing. A spur of the moment purchase brought on by a dumb impulse - a flash of amusement at the face Damian was bound to make.

And then Tim sends one last message, short and to the point. (Nice to know Damian didn't kill him for the photo, at least.)

_He's more insufferable than ever. Fix it._

********

"Drake, I will hurt you." Damian sounds tired, for him, stuffy. Sick, not that he'll admit to such a thing, possible weakness.

Dick feels another smile coming on at that. It's always nice to see his brothers getting along. "Hey, Little D," he says. 

Damian twitches under the covers.

"...Grayson."

And that. Dick winces. He's a terrible brother sometimes. "Heard you were - "

"I am not sick!"

Right, right. "Okay, well, I missed you, so." 

Dick waits, sees Damian twitch again, pulling the pillow off his head to glare at Dick. "You are a child. No, you are worse than a child." 

There's really only one way to respond to that, isn't there? Two quick steps and a little jump -  
"Grayson!" 

Dick curls around Damian, using the blankets Damian's cocooned himself in to trap his flailing limbs as he pulls him in close, and waits until he subsides, muttering darkly to himself. Dick grins, victorious, and tucks Damian's head under his chin. 

"Impossible," Damian mutters, trying to get Dick with his elbows, but Dick just hugs Damian tighter.

" _Shhh_ , it's cuddle time," he says, biting back a laugh when Damian actually growls. 

“You - “

“ _Cuddle time_ ,” Dick stresses, and something in his voice must get across to Damian because the fight goes out of him. 

“I do not...cuddle.”

Well, not voluntarily, maybe, but Dick's working on that.

“I do not require them, either.”

That's a lie, but Dick isn't here to argue. “Well _I_ do.”

Damian sighs, greatly put upon. “You are still an idiot.”

Dick makes an agreeable noise. “Of course.” He can hear the drowsiness in Damian's voice, sleep creeping up on him in spite of his best efforts. “Now shush.”

Another long-suffering sigh from Damian, but he doesn't say anything else. Dick smiles and pulls the blankets up around them, sleep tugging at his mind.


	22. Saturday Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim wrinkles his nose, hunching further into the mass of blankets and pillows. He's sick and doesn't have anything going on for once, so yes, Dick, cartoons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick little DickTim drabble because I’m watching old _Swat Kats_ episodes and it’s awesome, I guess? *hands*

“Cartoons?”

Tim wrinkles his nose, hunching further into the mass of blankets and pillows. He’s sick and doesn’t have anything going on for once, so yes, Dick, cartoons.

“Really?” There’s amusement in Dick’s voice as he settles next to Tim, hand worming through the snarl of blankets to seek out Tim’s, weaving their fingers together. There’s a gentle tug that’s _hey_ and _hello_ and _check me out, I’m comfortable -_ way _better than a pillow, I promise _.__

Tim rolls his eyes, and goes with it when Dick tugs again, untangling the topmost blanket to throw around Dick’s shoulders. Wordlessly inviting him into his little nest of warmth and comfort and old (happy) memories. Dick smiles, snuggling closer.

“Are those cats?”

“Kats,” Tim says, smiling a little to himself at the baffled look Dick gives him.

“I thought that’s what I said. Cats.”

“ _Kats_ ,” Tim says. (He’s done this before, and it never gets old.)

“…Cats.”

Tim shakes his head. “No, it’s.” He reaches for the remote, pressing the button for the DVD menu screen.As fun as it is messing with Dick like this, it’ll just end in a headache for Tim and confusion and irritation on Dick’s end.

Well, that and Dick’s surprisingly comfortable and, yes, better than a pillow even if he has a habit of talking through the good parts once Tim explains what’s going on and they settle in to watch the rest of the episodes.


	23. Aliases

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim blames everything, but mostly Bart because he's the one who told Tim about the site, and then Dick and Jason had invaded his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insomnia + [Assassin Name Generator](http://www.stack.net.au/assassin/index.php) = this. *hands*

Tim blames everything, but mostly Bart because he's the one who told Tim about the site, and then Dick and Jason had invaded his room. 

"This is the best thing in the fucking world." 

The sad thing is, Jason's not being sarcastic. 

"Baby bird, which do you like better, The Secret Dude for Tim, or The Clobbering Topper for Timothy?"

And there Dick goes, not bothering to hide his laughter. "Try Timmy, see what comes up."

A blessed moment of silence and - "The Red Slayer?"

Tim perks up at that, half turning to look over at the desk where Dick and Jason are entering the names of people they know into his laptop to find out what their Assassin Name is. 

"Timmers?" Dick offers, followed by typing, and then, of course, Jason's laughter. 

"The Howling Zapper?" Dick wheezes, hanging off the chair Jason's sitting in.

"Still better than The Twitching Assassin (Dick) or The Merciless Gravefiler (Richard), Dick," he shoots back. 

Jason snorts, "I'm pretty fond of The Silver Waster, Dickiebird."

Jason can afford to laugh, when he got The Howling Assassin as his result, but Dick and Tim? Not so lucky. The same for Damian, actually. They'd gotten The Injurious Whacker for Damian and The Pussyfooted Knight for Dami, both of which Tim knows Jason is saving up for future use.

Jason glances over his shoulder at Tim, and smirks. "Let's see what Discowing gets us, shall we?"

"Jason - "

"Shh, Dick, this will only take a second," Jason says.

Tim sets what he's working on down goes over to see what comes up for that entry. "The Unforgiving Gigolo?" 

Dick looks at him. Looks at Jason. "Try Bruce!" he says, trying to deflect because he knows what's coming.

"Baby bird?"

Tim locks eyes with Dick, who looks back and. This will come in handy later at some point, Tim’s sure. "Try Bruce," he agrees.

Jason sighs, and enters Bruce's name and gets, "The Agonising Throatslasher."

"Huh," Dick says. "That's. Wow."

The three of them stare at the screen, not really sure what to with that, and then as one, "Alfred," which gets them to, "The Sneaky Icer?"

"If you're quite done," Alfred says from behind them. "I believe The Agonising Throatslasher would like to have a word with all of you. _Downstairs_."

Beside him, Dick freezes like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Jason lets out a low curse and Tim. Tim looks back to see Alfred standing a few feet away, a scowling Damian next to him.

Tim's supposed to be the smart one, so he gives Alfred his best reasonably responsible adult smile. "Thanks Alfred," he says, and gives Dick an encouraging pat on the as he abandons Dick and Jason to to explain to Alfred and Damian.


End file.
